Scarred Souls
by noralastyle
Summary: Four crime bosses dead and there's a new villian in town...can Batman solve the riddle and unmask the killer in time?
1. Chapter 1: Complications

Author's note: As everyone else, I do not own any of the Batman characters. However, Aasia/Cobra is my own invention and I would appreciate it if no one used it. If you do want to, please contact me. Oh, and please review! I love reviews!

**Scarred Souls**

**Chapter 1**

**Complications**

Aasia sighed as she collapsed tiredly on her bed in her little apartment. Yet another man out of her life. But this one had gone on longer than it should have. She smiled painfully as she remembered. It had been his eyes that had first draw her to him. Deep and dark, full of sadness and strength when he thought no one was looking. Then, suddenly, they could be so wide and innocent that that it made her wonder if she had imagined it before. But she had known that it wouldn't last. It couldn't because he would want the absolute commitment that she couldn't give. Not to anyone. She almost laughed.

I must be crazy, she thought. No sane girl would have turned down the billionaire dreamboat, Bruce Wayne. But she had.

They had been walking in the garden, holding hands and silently admiring one another in the moonlight. His dark eyes were even darker in the moonlight. They sat down on a bench and he had taken her hand. His own were damp, from nervousness, she thought.

" Aasia," ha had said. "There's - there's something I need to tell you."

She was afraid then. Afraid of what she wanted so badly for him to say. So she had stopped him with a finger to his lips.

"Don't," she had said. "Just don't. I know what you're trying to say and the truth is…I can't."

He seemed about to speak again so she hurried on.

"I - my life is complicated. I'm complicated. And I can't be what you expect me to be. I…oh, how can I explain it?"

Then she knew.

"Kiss me?"

He had looked confused. "What?"

"Kiss me."

And he had, folding her into his strong arms with a simple kiss that she wished could have gone on forever. So she pulled away.

"My love is like that. I can give no more. I can be no more. In my own way, though, I do love you. And that is why I'm going to leave.

"Goodbye, Bruce."

And she had walked away, knowing that she was walking out of his life forever. Hating it, loving him, but knowing. She thought she had heard him say something. It sounded like, "Goodbye, " It sounded like the voce of a little boy, who had just lost his world. But then, it might just have been the wind on the lake.

Back in the present, Aasia sighed again. Then she got up, slipping her beautiful evening dress over her head and letting it fall in a crumpled heap on the floor. Then she took out those very special contacts and went to her closet, opening that very special secret compartment in the back. She pulled on her costume easily, feeling the slippery fabric pull tight against her skin. She was about to pull the hood over her head when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Part of her, the old Aasia, glared out from behind the scarred eyes, hating what she was doing and hating what she had become. The other part laughed loudly in her image's face and pulled the hood over her hair, letting the mask settle heavily over her eyes. Then, turning out the light, she slipped silently out the window and into the night.

Bruce Wayne understood pain. He had known it, lived with it, every day of his life since that cold winter night when he was eight years old. He could deal with pain. But work always helped. He pressed down on the accelerator, speeding the Batmobile on its way towards police headquarters. Overhead, the Batsignal shone brightly in the cloudy night sky.

He slipped in silently through the window, letting the wind ruffle the paper's lying on the desk. Police Commissioner Gordon turned.

"We've got a murder case for you, Batman," he said, picking up some photographs from the mess of papers and handing them over.

"Forensics?" asked the Batman, Flipping slowly through them. They were or two corpses, male and well dressed, lying on thir backs with their arms folded across their chests in the style of the ancient Egyptian mummies. The faces of the corpses were dark and bloated, the mouths and eyes open in a grotesque expression of absolute horror. Two of the photos were close-ups of the men's foreheads, where a small figure had been painted in black. It was an uraelus, or Egyptian cobra, of the kind that was worn by the ancient Pharaohs to symbolize power.

"Poisoned," answered Gordon. "Intravenously through a small puncture wound in the back of their necks. The poison is some kind of snake venom, fast acting and deadly with no antidote. The victims probably had about two minutes before they died."

"Fingerprints?"

"None. He killer was very careful. The odd thing though is that the bodies were found laid out in the open near the docks. An officer on patrol found them."

The Batman nodded. "Identification on the bodies?"

"That's the second puzzle," said Gordon, shaking his head. "The victims were two powerful crime bosses, drug lords that the police have been trying to track down for months. They're two of a partnership of five Bosses called the Miazza. The Miazza deal mainly in drugs, mostly from Central and South America, and do some weapons smuggling. We're trying to find the other three as fast as we can in case the killer is out to get all five."

The Batman nodded again, slipping the photos into a compartment on his belt. "I'll take these and let you know if I find anything."

Gordon sighed. "Thanks, Batman."

Then he sat down at his desk, turning his back to the window, knowing as the wind ruffled the papers on the desk again that the Batman was gone.

Wearily, Aasia crawled back through her window, dropping heavily onto the wooden floor of he apartment. Shakily, she pulled off the costume and put it back in its secret compartment. Then she crawled into bed. She was exhausted and scared. The things she had seen that that night were hard for her to even think about and she curled into a ball, trying to escape them. She had found the first of her targets. Tomorrow she would find the next two. But for now, unconsciousness overcame her as the first edges of dawn peeked through her window.

Back in the Batcave, Bruce scanned the photos into the computer, searching the forensics database for a symptom match. After a few seconds, the computer found one. Bruce read it out loud to Alfred, who was taking notes behind him.

"These symptoms are characteristic of victims bitten by the _Ophiophagus hannah _or King Cobra. The venom of the King Cobra is fast acting and deadly, causing the heart to speed up and the victim to eventually go into fatal convulsions. There is no known antidote to this venom, making the King Cobra one of the world's most deadly Reptiles."

"Hmmm," said Alfred as he finished off the last of the notes. "A uraelus and snake venom. Sounds to me, sir, as if we're looking for a killer with something to do with snakes."

Bruce smiled wryly.

"Remind me to arrest the keeper at the Zoo's reptile house. "No, there's no point in searching for the killer. That could take weeks. Think I'll pay a visit to the Miazza, see what they know."

He stood up, pulling the cowl and mask back over his head. The he walked over to the Batmobile.

"It could be a long night," said the Batman. "Don't wait up."

"Good luck, sir," said Alfred as the Batmobile roared to life and sped away down the tunnel.

Jimmy Black was a homeless man, one of the many in Gotham. Matted and dirty, he walked the streets mumbling to himself and spent his nights in his own personal box in Blacksmith Alley. Sometimes people gave him money, but otherwise no one paid any attention to the poor, old, homeless man.

However, to those who knew the right people and had the right money, Jimmy Black was also one of Gotham's foremost dealers in information. He knew everything that went on in Gotham, which also made him one of the richest homeless men in Gotham, if not the world.

It was dark and rainy that night as Jimmy walked home, gleefully counting out his small change from the day. He had just put the coins carefully in his safest pocket when he ran into something that felt like a brick wall. He looked up, and further up (Jimmy was a short guy) at the massive black shadow that blocked the way. A massive black shadow with a yellow insignia on its chest.

"Oh, shit," said Jimmy.

Knowing it was pointless, he reached for the knife that he kept hidden in another pocket and watched regretfully as it clattered down a storm drain.

"Guilty conscience, Jimmy?" asked the shadow.

Jimmy cowered on the wet sidewalk.

"I don't know nothing! I didn't do it! It wasn't me!"

"Easy, Jimmy," said the voice, making him anything but easy. "I just need some information on the Miazza."

Jimmy looked up. "The Miazza?"

The shadow nodded.

"Oooh, you're gonna be in big trouble if…"

The shadow shifted and an iron fist picked him up by the front of his rags, bringing him face to face with it. A nearby street lamp flickered, making the Bat seem more demonic. Jimmy could see himself twice reflected in the mirrors that glinted where the eyes should have been.

"Tell me where the Miazza are, Jimmy."

"In - in a warehouse. On the waterfront."

"Which?"

"I don't know."

The grip tightened.

"S - seventeen! They're in number seventeen!"

With that the fist dropped him and the shadow vanished. Sniffling, Jimmy scuttled off into the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2: The Unmasking

**Chapter 2**

**The Unmasking**

It didn't take him long to find warehouse 17. It was one of the larger warehouses near the docks, with smaller rooms above the big storage area. It was a simple thing to swing across from the roof of another warehouse to one of the upper windows and pick the lock. Once inside, however, he had to disable the system of security cameras that monitored the rooms and the hallway beyond. He had just clipped the last wire when he heard sound of fighting and shouting coming from the big warehouse room below. He sprinted silently down the hallway but by the time he reached the door at its end, the sounds had stopped. Slowly, he opened the door and peered out over the edge of the catwalks beyond. Below, on the warehouse floor, lay several figures. Most of them looked to be hired thugs. Two of the figures, however, were laid out in a familiar pattern, their arms crossed over their chests. He didn't need to see their suits to know that these were two more of the Miazza crime bosses. Bending over them, however, was another figure, dressed all in black. Careful to make no noise, he jumped from the catwalk, using the ballistic fabric of his cape to slow his descent to the floor. The bright overhead lights threw his shadow over the figure, causing them to turn. He could tell from the shorter distance that the figure was a woman, but a black hood and mask covered her hair and the upper half of her face. There was something strange about her eyes but he couldn't be sure as she turned and ran. He hit the ground, rolling to break the fall, and sprinted after her. He lost sight of her when she dodged through a small door and, by the time he had reached it, she was already up the wall of another close-by warehouse. He was impressed; she was fast. Without stopping, he fired his grapnel at the roof, letting the pull of the automatic reel and his own momentum speed him up the side of the building. She was already up and, with a glance back at him, sprinted for the far edge of the flat warehouse roof. He moved to stop her but then, with an amazing leap, she cleared the edge of the roof and landed smoothly on the roof of one of the first dockside apartment buildings, an impossible distance away. He followed, letting his own jump carry him halfway and then firing the grapnel again to swing him across the remaining distance. Again she hesitated when she saw him following but then she was off again, sprinting across the rooftop and jumping the small gap between the apartment building and the next. He followed and they continued like that for several blocks.

Then she dropped over the edge of one building and he lost sight of her. Reaching the edge, he looked over to find an abandoned construction site in the empty lot beyond. He knew she must be hiding there. She hadn't had time to go anywhere else. He dropped over the edge, landing easily on the broken ground inside the sagging chain-link fence. The building had only been partially completed; the metal framework and concrete floors were the only things that had been finished. Rusty equipment and half-buried piles of cinderblock lay everywhere. Then he heard a noise: the small sound of a pebble being kicked loose that came from the top floor of the building. Silently, he climbed up and slipped into the deep shadows cast by a half-built wall and a pile of pipes. He didn't have long to wait. The shadow cast by a nearby abandoned crane had only moved a few inches when a dark form detached itself and came to stand at the edge of the platform. The clouds had cleared somewhat and the partial moonlight silhouetted her, shimmering off the fabric of her costume. He shoulders were bowed and she put her hand to he head as if she had a headache. Careful to make no noise, he emerged from his hiding spot and came to stand a few feet behind her.

"This chase is over," his voice was low and chilling. Terrifying, as he had meant it to be.

She started and spun around, but in turning she lost her balance as her boot s caught on the edge of the platform. She teetered for a moment, and then fell, slowly, backwards. Without stopping to think, he jumped after her. Time seemed to go in slow motion as they fell. He angled his body into a dive to catch up to her. For some reason his brain noted the fact that she made no sound, not even a scream as she fell. They were only a few inches apart. Then one. Then he had her wrapping one arm around her waist as he twisted around to fire the grapnel at the crane. He attached the line to his belt as it played out and the ground rushed up at them as time sped up again. Then, with a jerk that knocked the breath out of both their bodies, they stopped, swinging slightly two stories above the ground. Because of the grip he had on her, they were now face to face, very close, and he got his first good look at her eyes. They were green. Bright, unnatural green with no whites. The pupils were thin, black, vertical slits. They were like snake eyes. In fact, now that he really looked at them, they were almost mesmerizing. Then she moved, breaking the connection. He blinked and twisted his head, just as her fist connected with it, so that the force of the blow landed on the side of his Kevlar-lined mask. As she pulled her arm back again, he untangled his own and she went limp as his fingers connected with a pressure point in her throat.

Back in the Cave, Batman paced back and forth across the cold stone floor. Before him sat the girl, handcuffed to a chair and unconscious. Now, in the dim light of the cave, he could see her costume fully. It was a completely black suit of some kind of shimmery, strengthened fabric with black climbing boots and gloves. A black hood and mask covered her hair and the upper half of her face. He had left her mask in place. He respected masks as he himself wore one. The only break in the black of her costume were two white diamonds on the underside of her hood, one above each shoulder. When the hood was up, as it was now, the diamonds resembled one thing: the markings on the hood of a King Cobra.

It took some time for Aasia to swim up through the murky fog of unconsciousness. At first all she could think about was the throbbing ache in her head. Then, gradually, her other senses emerged, telling her that she was cold, she was sitting on something hard, and she couldn't move her arms. Slowly she opened her eyes to find herself in a huge room. It was a cave, in fact, with rough rock walls. Looking down, he found that she was sitting on a plain metal chair and from the metallic clink that sounded when she moved her hands, she guessed that her hands were handcuffed behind her. She had a moment of panic before the familiar weight of her mask and hood reassured her that they were still there. It was only after her brain had noted all of these things that she noticed a familiar tall shadow standing just outside the circle of light in which she sat. It spoke.

"Name?"

His voice was deep and gravelly. It echoed off the walls and bounced back at her. Something in the voice sounded very familiar but she couldn't get her tired brain to focus.

"Cobra."

"Real name."

She said nothing. There was no way she was going to tell him.

"Name!"

She still said nothing. But there was still that something in the voice that nagged at her brain.

"I could make you tell me."

She was thinking more clearly now. Feeling around with her fingers, she found that the lockpicks she kept in the cuffs of her gloves had been removed. She needed to keep him talking to give herself more time. He was trying to intimidate her, but now that she was aware of it, it wouldn't work.

"Ha! If you wanted to know who I was, you could have just taken off my mask."

The shadow had vanished and she waited for a few moments in silence before the voice spoke again, right in her ear, making her jump.

"How do you know I didn't?"

"Because you wouldn't be asking me."

The shadow vanished again and she began twisting her wrists, trying to clench her hands tight enough to fit through the cuffs. Then, suddenly, the shadow was right next to her, looming impossibly tall in the darkness.

"Why did you kill four Miazza bosses?"

Her right hand was almost through, the sharp metal of the cuff pulling painfully on the skin of her hand.

"I didn't!"

He disappeared again.

"Don't be stupid. They were poisoned with snake venom and had uraelus painted on their foreheads. Your name is the Cobra. You were found standing over the bodies and forensics will show that they died right before that."

She stopped twisting for a minute, realizing what he was saying.

"But - I didn't! I just found them like that!"

"I'm sure the police would be happy to hear that."

Her wrist was almost out.

"Is that what you are? The police?"

There was no reply and she stopped for a moment to listen.

"You're not, are you? You're like me."

He was suddenly there again.

"I am nothing like you!"

Her hand slipped free but she kept it behind her, waiting for the right moment.

"No?"

"You kill."

His voice was low as he spat the words. But she knew she had heard it somewhere before, if only she could place it.

"I didn't!"

He had vanished again but she was sure that he was still somewhere on her right. She took the chance, simultaneously leaping off the chair and kicking it to her right, then hitting the ground in a roll that brought her up to her feet again. But she had not gotten more than a few steps when and iron grip on her arm pulled her up short.

"Stop struggling."

Then it clicked. She knew that voice. She knew it very well.

"Bruce?"

He didn't move, didn't say anything. But she was so sure.

"Bruce, is that you?"

She stepped backwards, pulling him back with her into the light. The cowl made him look demonic, the light like he was carved from stone. But she was sure and there was only one way she could make him understand.

Slowly, she raised one hand to her face and slipped her fingers beneath her mask. Then, in one motion, she pulled the mask and hood off, shaking out her short, dark hair. For a long moment, he didn't move, didn't say anything. Then in a whisper so low she almost didn't hear it:

"Aasia."

Slowly she raised her hands to his face but he jerked back and for a moment she was afraid she had lost him. Then he reached up with his own hands and pulled off the mask and cowl.

And there they stood before each other, unmasked and waiting for the other to say something. His was the same face as the one she knew. The eyes were the same. The features were the same. But everything was also different. This was a different Bruce Wayne. A stronger, darker Bruce Wayne. He broke the silence first.

"That's what you meant. When you said you couldn't…"

"And you weren't trying to ask me…"

He shook his head slowly.

He couldn't believe it he wouldn't have, had he not seen the face behind the mask. He didn't even dare to let himself think what this might mean.

"Why?"

She misunderstood.

"Same reason as you, I guess. I…"

She looked as if she was trying to find words to express something she didn't want to remember. She started again, her voice low and her eyes unfocused as she relived her past.

"When I was little, my family and I lived in a little village in Mexico. My family…well, there was only really my father and me. Papa was a farmer, and poor, but he made a living. But things got hard, so hard. He tried corn, he tried potatoes, but everything would either dry up or get eaten by the insects that came every fall. And then he heard of another crop. One that was easy to grow and that people paid a lot of money for. He grew whole fields of it and every season, these rich men would come and take it away in their trucks. And, for once, we had plenty of food to eat, and new clothes, and Papa was able to hire some people to help work in the fields.

But then he found out what it was that he grew. It was a drug and people died because of it. That day he went out and burned all the fields. Nothing escaped. And he knew what it meant but he said he refused to be a murderer. The next day, the rich men came. They were very angry and they wanted to know why. So he told them. I was sitting on the front porch when they came. I saw everything. They told him to plant again. He said no. So they shot him. In the stomach so that it took forever for him to die."

She paused, her eyes closed, and he wanted to reach out to her. To hold her and take care of her. But he needed to hear the end of the story first.

She continued.

"There was this canyon near our house. Papa always told me never to go near it. That it was dangerous. I guess they wanted to get rid of the evidence or something. So they brought us to the canyon. We stood for a moment on the edge and I saw why my father had warned me about it. The bottom of the canyon was alive; a moving, shifting surface of living snakes. It was getting dark then and they were just waking up for the night. Then they pushed us in, my father's body and me, and I remember us rolling over and over down the hill. When we hit the bottom, my head hit something and I blacked out. All I remember is this angry hissing sound getting louder and louder. Then, the next thing I knew, I woke up in a hospital bed. But I remembered what had happened. I was still witness. And I swore there would be a reckoning. I've trained my whole life; I've hid these eyes my whole life. And finally I tracked those rich men down. I came to Gotham to find them. And when I met them, well…I wasn't sure what I was going to do."

She looked up at him, giving him the full force of her scarred eyes.

"But I didn't kill them. I ran because…because I didn't know what else to do. Like now. I've built my whole life around this and someone got to them first. I'm just so…lost."

He almost sighed with relief. It was the right end. She hadn't yet let revenge take over her life. Then, gently, he reached out a gloved hand and brushed a strand of hair back from her face. She was looking up at him, and her eyes seemed to him the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Running his fingers back through her hair, he drew her close until, finally, their lips met softy. And then he held her, and she him, so tightly that both could barely breathe. They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in one another, afraid to let go of something so impossible that it might vanish if they did.

But then, slowly, he pulled away.

"I never told you…when you left…that I love you." He smiled thinly. "I was afraid to. Afraid of what it might mean. You're right. We are the same. Split, right down the center. I believe you if you say you didn't kill them. But that means that we have someone else to hunt down."

A shadow passed over his face.

"Someone has been trying to frame you. We need to stop them before they kill again."

He turned but stopped when she put a hand on his arm. He sighed regretfully.

"We have no time."

Gently, he reached out and touched her cheek. Then he reached over his shoulder ad pulled the cowl and mask back over his face. And Bruce Wayne was gone. Vanished and replaced by his ruthless, impenetrable alter ego. The Batman turned and walked away.

And Aasia watched him go. Part of her wanted him to come back to her and spend the rest of eternity together and forget everything. The other part knew there was work to be done. The work she had come to Gotham for and the work that she had sworn to finish. And so she pulled on her own mask and followed.


	3. Chapter 3: Victory and Loss

**Chapter 3 **

**Victory and Loss**

From her perch atop a nearby office building, Cobra watched the old warehouse through a pair of nightvision binoculars. The warehouse was dark except for a thin slice of light coming from one of the windows on the top floor, but the binoculars showed her two guards stationed near the small entrance on this side, armed with what looked like rifles. The binoculars were part of the equipment that the Batman had given her, including a small wireless headset that fit easily under her hood and a light climbing rope. He would have given her more but she knew that this was how she worked best. Her job right now was to watch the entrance, making sure that no one got past without her noticing. The Batman was watching the other side of the building, where he could keep an eye on the people within through an open window. The idea was that they would be able to see the killer if he came to finish his job tonight and could trap him within the building, using the final Miazza boss as bait. She was supposed to check in with him in a few minutes but so far everything had been quiet. They had alerted the police and several SWAT teams wait nearby for the signal to come in and round up any thugs and take the killer into custody. Now it was just a waiting game. She concentrated on her job, though. She was a professional. She knew that she would be distracted if she thought about him. But she couldn't help the warm feeling that came over her every time she even thought his name. After tonight hey could go home. Her mission would be finished and they could love each other without holding back and keeping secrets. It still seemed hard to believe. It was as if they had found the other half of themselves. The other side to their coin. If they only made it past tonight.

A voice crackled over the radio.

"Bat to Cobra. Come in. Over."

"Cobra here."

"How does it look over there?"

She picked up the binoculars again, sweeping the over the ground around the warehouse.

"All quiet here. Looks like…"

She stopped and passed the binoculars over the entrance again. Both guards were now lying prone on the ground. She could tell even from where she was that both of their necks had been broken.

"Hang on, both guards are dead! The killer is inside. Repeat, the killer is inside!"

His voice was calm on the other side.

"See if you can follow him. I'm going in the window. We'll catch him somewhere in the middle. Bat out."

Dropping the binoculars, she uncoiled the rope at her waist and swung swiftly down to the ground. Making sure the coast was clear, she sprinted across the empty street and slipped through the door past the dead guards. It was dark

inside as she made her way quietly down a small hallway and out into the maze of crates that filled the warehouse. Suddenly, the overhead lights came on and she was forced to shield her eyes until they adjusted. She was only still for a few seconds but in that time a group of thugs came jogging around the corner, talking into a radio. They hesitated when they saw her but the thug in the lead recovered quickly.

"Get her!" he yelled, pulling an automatic from the back of his belt.

She jumped, pulling herself over the edge of the crate next to her just as two bullets thunked into its sides. Taking a step back, she then jumped forward, flipping over the heads of the gang and landing on the shoulders of the leader, knocking him to the ground. Then she was up and moving again, kicking the legs out from beneath the closest thug and smashing her fist into his jaw as he too went down. Blocking a punch from another thug, she sent a foot into his gut, ducking just in time to avoid a bat that yet another had swung at her head. She dropped him with a roundhouse kick to the head and turned just as several bullets ricocheted off the floor near her feet as the last two thugs backed off. Then another group came running around the corner and she flipped up onto the crates again as more bullets whizzed past her head. They were yelling and talking into radios as some climbed onto the crates behind her. She took off running, jumping gaps and following the maze of crate tops. More bullets whizzed past and she dropped down onto the floor between the crates, sprinting off in another direction. Now the whole warehouse was alight and there were shouting thugs all over the place. As she ran, she looked up at the office rooms on the catwalks above. One was lit and she could see the shadows of people fighting through the window. She turned a corner, running in the direction of the elevator that ran up to the catwalks. Now it sounded like the whole gang was after her as she reached the elevator platform. Several more bullets pinged off the wall in front of her as she vaulted over the railing to the elevator control box. Smashing open the cover, she reached in and ripped out a handful of wiring. Then she started climbing, using the rope to reach the first of the supports for the elevator shaft. Having the elevator out would force the thugs to go to the opposite end of the warehouse in order to climb the stairs and hopefully would buy her time. More gunshots echoed nearby and several bullets buried themselves in the metal strut close to her head. But then she was up and over the catwalk railing and running towards the lighted office. Then she stopped. A dark figure was creeping slowly towards the door of the office. It was the killer. Slowly, she followed. Trying to be as silent as possible. But he had heard her and, spinning around, he stuck a small tube in his mouth. Then something stung the side of her neck and reaching up, she pulled a small, feathered dart from where it was buried in the fabric of her costume. The man smiled triumphantly as she walked slowly towards him. He was dressed all in black, like she was, but he wore no mask. Strange tattoos were printed across his face, making him look like a goblin or something out of a story. She stopped a few feet away and stared straight at him. Then he spoke.

"And you must be the Cobra."

She nodded. He grinned.

"I really must say how convenient it was of you to appear in Gotham like you did.'

"Why."

"I thought that would have been obvious."

She just stared at him.

He sighed and continued. "Well, you did make for a very handy cover. Imagine how coincidental. Someone with a name and style so perfectly suited to my work who just happened to show up at precisely the right time.'

"Who are you?"

He bowed. "Sanji Crow, professional assassin by trade."

She was angry but she kept it slow, knowing that he was getting careless.

"Why are you killing the Miazza?"

"Just a job. Man has to make a living you know."

"How?"

"Ah, wouldn't you like to know. Well, for you I shall make an exception. With these little darts. So small but so very poisonous. Snake venom, which, by the way, is currently is running through your veins."

She didn't move. She wanted very much to make him hurt. To make him feel for what he had stolen from her. But still she waited.

"Any minute now," he continued. "You should feel your heart speeding up. Feel the air being cut off."

He reached out and touched her face.

"Pity."

The moment had come. Lightning fast, her hand shot out and caught his, forcing it away from her. He swung at her and she flipped him over, using his arm as a pivotal point. But he knew martial arts as well, and pulled her over with him. They rolled apart and jumped to their feet. He looked shocked.

"I don't understand. What…"

She came at him again. Punching and kicking in combinations so fast that he could barely keep up. Then he recovered and she was forced back a few steps as he replied in kind. Then a bullet pinged off the catwalk nearby, making her hesitate. The thugs had reached the stairs and were running along the catwalks towards them. In her moment of distraction, Crow got through, landing a strike on her face that knocked her down. She rolled, just in time to avoid the knee that came down where her head had been. She jumped to her feet, spitting blood from a cut lip. But now she had the advantage; he was on the floor and she was standing. She kicked out, knocking him over but he rolled to his feet again. But this time, when he punched, she just simply caught it. Then, grabbing his elbow, she flipped him again. This time she felt the bone snap as he went over and when he landed, he did not get up.

"What…" he gasped. "You were supposed to… the poison. It…"

She reached up and pulled off her mask. And his eyes widened in understanding when he saw her eyes clearly for the first time.

"So that's…"

A hail of bullets pinged around them, drowning out what he was saying. She ducked, curling up in the shelter of that corner of the office. She looked back at Crow. He was still. His eyes were open but no breath moved in his chest. A small trickle of blood trailed slowly from the corner of his mouth. She backed away, getting to her feet and sprinting the rest of the way to the office and jerking the door open. The Batman was inside, dealing with a group of about ten thugs. At lest twenty more lay on the floor around him but he was still moving as if he had just started. In the corner was another man, too well dressed to be a thug. He had to have been the last boss and he was busy reloading a small pistol. But she didn't have time to worry at him. Grabbing a gun that had been kicked near the door, she ran back out side. The thugs were close and the catwalks creaked as they ran in a group towards her. Ducking around the corner, she took aim at the bolt holding the struts that supported the catwalk. She fired once and it shattered, that catwalk sagging to one side as the strut swung free. Then she took aim and the second and fired, the catwalk swaying even more as another strut gave way. Then there was only one left. She took aim and fired. The bullet ricocheted off but the bolt remained intact. The catwalks were swaying violently now as the crowd drew closer. She took aim again, taking her time and trying not to rush. Then she fired again. The bolt shattered, but the strut remained where it was. She fired again, not bothering to aim but the hammer of the gun clicked on an empty chamber. Then the first of the thugs came around the corner and she backed away as they took aim. But then, with a violent screech of metal, the last strut tore free, swinging the portion of the catwalks, which held the gang, down, dumping most of the thugs on the ground. Several guns went off and she felt a sharp pain in her arm. She looked over to see a wide cut where a bullet had plowed a path through the outside of her arm. But other than that she was fine and she had been able to buy them more time.

She ran back to the office, clamping a hand on the cut to help slow the bleeding. Inside it was much the same as she had left it. There were only five thugs left, but the Batman seemed to be moving slower. Then she saw the blood. There was a long rip in the material over his leg and the surrounding material was stained dark. But none of the thugs had any weapons that would have caused that kind of injury. Then she saw the boss. He had reloaded his pistol and was carefully taking aim at the Batman. Her legs seemed to move of their own accord. Vaulting over the prone thugs all over the floor, she landed directly in front of the boss. He hesitated for a second when she appeared, but before she could do anything, he moved the gun towards her and pulled the trigger. She paused. Her mind had registered the shot, had heard it, and she saw her body jerk and the bullet hit. But she couldn't feel a thing. He pulled the trigger again. She heard the shot again and felt her body jerk in response. But somehow it didn't matter.

Then she moved, her left hand snapping up under the barrel of the gun as her right hand came down on his wrist. She heard the crack as his wrist broke and caught the gun as it flew up into the air. Then she pointed it at his head. And she hesitated again. This time for a different reason. The first time had been because something very important had happened. She had recognized him. Kneeling on the floor in front of her, his eyes on the gun, was the man whose face she remembered very well. He had been there that day. That hot summer day when she had sat on her porch and watched as he had pulled out his gun and shot her father. Twice, right in the stomach. He was older than she remembered. But then, that had been twenty years ago. Now she hesitated for another reason. She was trying to resist the lure of the power she now held. The power over his life. Over whether he died right there, right then. She toyed with the idea of shooting him twice, right in the stomach. Of watching him take forever to die. Her finger tightened on the trigger.

Disarming the last thug with a punch in the gut and laying him out cold with another to the jaw, the Batman relaxed his fighting stance. He was tired, there had been too many of them for him to avoid every blow. And once the boss had gotten in that shot to the leg, his mobility had been seriously reduced. He blocked out the pain, taking stock of the room around him.

And then he saw her. Her arm was trembling, the fingers wrapped tight around the trigger of the gun she held. He could see the fear on the face of the man kneeling in front of her. And he knew what was happening. He had been there.

"Aasia," he said softly. The world was quiet around them. All that existed was the two of them, the gun, and the choice.

"Aasia, put down the gun."

He could see her shift her grip ever so slightly. But she said nothing and didn't move. He kept talking, trying to reach through to her.

"Let him go. We caught him. It's over. Let him go and lets go home."

Her hand shook even more and he could tell that she was fighting an inner battle over this.

"Please. Let him go."

Her hand jerked and the shot rang out. His eyes followed the path of the gun to the new smoking hole in the wall behind the boss. The man looked like he was about to faint. Then she dropped the gun, threw it away from herself as if it was poisonous to touch. Then she turned to him. And fell.

He ran to her, ignoring the screaming muscles in his leg and gathering her up into his arms. Her face was white and he realized that her mask and hood were gone. He touched her face, brushing the hair back from her eyes.

"Come back to me, Aasia. Come back."

He felt warmth seeping into the fabric of his costume and looked down to see the large spreading dark stain in the fabric of hers. The stain was centered around two small holes just beneath her chest and even as he watched it spread further.

"Aasia, please come back."

Her eyelids flickered. Reaching up with one hand, he pulled his cowl and mask savagely off his head, bringing his face close to hers.

"It's me. Come, on. Come back."

Her eyes opened and he knew he had never seen anything more beautiful. Her voice was soft and shaking.

"I didn't -didn't…"

He reassured her quickly.

"No, no you didn't. You came back. You let him go.

"I'm not - not a k-killer."

He could feel the tears filling his eyes, blurring his vision and he blinked them away so that he could see her better.

"No, not a killer. You were never a killer. I never thought you were."

Her breath was getting ragged and a small trickle of blood appeared at the corner of her mouth.

"I lo…"

He stroked at her face, squeezing her in his arms, and trying to keep her with him.

"What is it, baby? It's ok. What is it?"

He could hear her struggling to breathe.

"I love -lo - love you."

The tears came then. He knew he was losing her. In one last attempt to keep her, he pressed his lips to hers. And he could feel her returning the kiss for a moment. And then she was gone. He pressed his cheek to hers, holding her tight as if would never let go, the tears pouring down his face to drop on the eyes now closed forever.

The boss, the only other conscious person in the room, heard a sob, a sound of a heart as it tears into pieces and lies bleeding as the man in black held the woman to him and rocked back and forth. Then he took his chance, crawling as quietly as he could towards the door. He moved quickly, disregarding the bodies of the unconscious bodyguards as he made his break for escape. He was almost at the door when he heard a sound behind him. He froze, the terror creeping into a cold knot in the pit of his stomach. Then he turned, slowly. The Batman was standing over him. The boss knew who he was. What criminal didn't? He knew that he didn't kill. And he knew that no one had ever seen his face. But here was the demon himself, unmasked. And there was no mistaking the death in his eyes. They were dark and hot with fury. Like chips of ice that could burn his very soul. He waited for something to happen. For the man to move, for him to say something, anything. A long moment passed. Tentatively, the boss opened his mouth to speak. Then with a roar, a wild animal sound that was more like a scream, the man picked him up by the front of his suit and hurled him with inhuman strength against the wall. He struck with a force that knocked the breath from his body and blacked out.

When he awoke again, he was being carried, handcuffed, in a stretcher to a waiting ambulance. As the medics carried him around a corner, he could just see several SWAT men looking at a large man-sized hole in the wall and shaking their heads.

Alfred was worried. Master Bruce had come home, but he could tell that part of him hadn't. Something in him had died that night, and he could see it in his eyes. He had refused to let him dress the wound in his leg and even now still sat staring out into the abyss of the Batcave. There was nothing he could do, Alfred knew that. But he also knew that Bruce would recover. He knew he would throw himself into his work with all of his soul. The Batman was so much a part of Gotham. He was the other side to the twisted, darkened soul that was Gotham. He could only hope that the good side would win out in the end.

Bruce looked up through the crevice in the ceiling of the cave. Overhead, the Batsignal shone brightly in the cloudy night sky.


End file.
